Chapter 10 Abigail
Chapter ten
Abigail
A tear dripped off the end of Abigail’s nose onto the pink dress from the attic.
She hadn’t planned on revealing so much of her past to Roan in the garden…but now that she’d started thinking about it, she couldn’t stop.
Roan had been so sweet about the whole thing, which was something she never would have expected from him. And the fact that he, of all people, had reacted that way proved that her father had made bad decisions.
If Roan was so upset on her behalf about something he couldn’t change, what would he have done if he had been there when she told her father no for the first time?
She thought back to the moment she’d refused to hold her father’s hand as he prepared to cast a spell to make their host forget that he hadn’t offered to send them away with two of his sheep. If there hadn’t been witnesses, she wasn’t sure what her father would have done.
As it was, he cast the spell, knowing it would only last for a few minutes, and they had run off with both sheep instead of the one the man had promised them in return for her father’s work.
She’d stood her ground after that, even though she wasn’t able to leave him yet.
He’d always told her that she was lucky to have him, that a young woman with no family or useful skills couldn’t survive on her own.
But after the marriage he had tried to force her into had failed, and he had been run off, she’d used that freedom to escape him—hopefully forever.
And now she had a place where she belonged, and Roan, who seemed to think that she belonged here, too. It was so different than the way she’d grown up, and the fact that he didn’t shun her because she had magic lifted a weight off her shoulders that she had hardly realized was there.
If someone had asked her if she felt worried that Roan would find out her secret and make her leave, she would have said yes—but no one had asked.
She had grown so used to keeping it secret that she hardly thought about it anymore.
And since her magic was not the kind that required fancy spells, a wand, or potions, it was fairly easy for her to assume no one would ever know.
But Roan knew now—and he hadn’t turned away. In fact, he had come closer. He’d taken her hands in his and held them so tightly she had almost believed he would never let go again.
He’d pulled her close, and if she hadn’t pulled away, he might have let her stay there in his arms.
She couldn’t let herself stay, though.
Being that close to someone who accepted her…it was too scary.
A fresh wave of tears came until she could hardly see the needle and thread through them. She’d never been accepted just for being herself before, at least not since she could remember.
Perhaps her mother had loved her unconditionally, but since she’d passed away when Abigail was no more than a toddler, she didn’t remember.
The kitchen door opened and Abigail sniffled, attempting to wipe the tears away before Roan could see them. But then he was there, dropping to his knees in front of the stool she sat on, concern etched across his face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking the dress and the needle and thread from her, setting them down on the floor, and taking her hands in his.
Abigail couldn’t get words to come out, so she just shook her head.
“Hey, tell me what’s wrong,” he said, his thumb gently rubbing circles on her hand.
“This whole time, I thought you were just a grumpy miser, and you’re actually wonderful,” she choked out through her sobs, and then, realizing what she had said, she began to sob harder. “And now I’m insulting you.”
Roan laughed and rose up on his knees to wrap his arms around her and let her cry on his shoulder.
“Oh, darling,” he said, rubbing circles on her back. “You didn’t insult me. You’re right. I am a grumpy old miser. You heard me yell at Beastie earlier, and you were right, she didn’t deserve it.”
Abigail sniffled and nodded. “She didn’t.”
“But that’s who I am, or who I have been.
Until you came along, I shut everyone out and only focused on how the tavern wasn’t doing well, instead of focusing on the things that were going well and how wonderful my life actually is.
You’re not wrong, and I’m sorry that it took this experience for me to realize that I should be doing things differently, but I’m not sorry that this experience brought the two of us closer together. ”
“Me neither,” she managed to choke out as she started hiccupping. “Of course, I have the hiccups, too,” she said miserably. “That makes—” hiccup “everything—” hiccup “better.”
Roan laughed and pulled back enough to wipe the tears away from her eyes with the pad of his thumb.
She hiccupped again.
“You don’t need to cry,” he said, “but if it makes you feel better, then cry all you want.”
At his words, the sobs began anew.
Her father had always told her to stop crying. Roan didn’t seem to mind, though.
Hiccup.
Roan laughed and pulled her close once again. Slowly, Abigail felt her sobs subsiding as Roan’s steady presence filled her senses with peace.
The hiccups took longer.
Eventually, she lifted her head from his shoulder, a quiet giggle spilling out at the sight of the wet spot on his shirt. “I’m sorry,” she said, fanning air at it.
“Don’t worry, I have plenty of shirts to wear at the moment,” he said dryly.
Abigail’s lips turned up in a quiet smirk. “I did wash your other shirt yesterday,” she pointed out.
“Do you want me to take this one off so you can wash it, too?” he asked.
“That’s not necessary,” she said primly, though she could feel the heat flooding her cheeks. “It will dry.”
“Are you sure?” He reached for the back of his neck and slowly began to peel the shirt over his head.
“I’m sure,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and holding the shirt onto his shoulders.
As much as she wouldn’t mind seeing him without again…that was a temptation she should avoid. And being this close to him without a shirt on seemed like a step too far for her reputation, even if no one saw it.
She would know it had happened.
“If you say so.” He let go of his shirt, his hand coming back to rest on her waist.
She began breathing faster as he stared into her eyes, as if he was reading into her soul.
If she didn’t know better, she might guess that a new spell had been cast, one that prevented her from looking away from him. It was impossible, even as he looked down at her lips.
The air between them felt heavy, and her heart felt as if it might beat out of her chest.
Beastie yipped as she came into the room, and the spell was broken.
Roan pulled away so quickly, she would have felt slighted, had she not also been afraid to stay close.
She couldn’t kiss Roan.
But she missed his arms around her.
“I see you’re working on my grandmother’s dress,” he said after a moment. “Does it fit you yet?”
“Not nearly as well as it did the other night,” Abigail said with a slight laugh. If only that part of the dream had stayed real.
Roan picked up the dress and held it out, assessing it. “Perhaps it would look better if you made it blue.”
“Do you have any idea how much that much dye would cost?” she asked. “Besides, I like the pink, and I love the way it looks. I just need to make it fit me.”
“I did tell you my grandmother was a hefty woman,” he said, his lips turning up in a smirk.
“You did,” she admitted. “But I’m making progress on it. I need to try it on again soon to see if these seams I’m sewing are working, or if I have to take them out and try again.”
“Do you need help?” he asked, then turned red. “I mean, over your other dress, if that would be helpful, or not.” He closed his eyes and heaved a deep breath. “I don’t know how dressmaking works. I’m going to go.”
He pressed the dress into her arms and hastily turned, but his feet were caught up in the extra skirt of the dress and he tripped. He fell, catching himself with one forearm before he squashed Beastie, who had come up behind him.
Beastie yelped, Roan hollered, and Abigail started laughing at the spectacle of it all. “I’m sorry,” she said as Roan glared up at her from the floor.
She set the dress down and reached out a hand to pull him up, but instead of letting her pull him up, Roan pulled her down next to him.
Abigail’s heart lurched as she fell, but Roan cushioned her fall, letting her land on his chest before immediately shoving her over to lie next to him, his arm under her head like a pillow.
They lay on the floor together, looking up at the ceiling, and Abigail couldn’t stop giggling.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, “I don’t know why I’m laughing. I can’t stop.”
“You think it’s that funny that I nearly killed myself and Beastie?” Roan asked, looking over at her.
Their faces were so close, Abigail stopped breathing for a moment.
She’d never noticed how dark brown his eyes were.
“You didn’t almost die,” she managed to squeak out before Beastie pushed her head in between the two of them, licking Roan’s cheek.
“Ew, Beastie,” he said in disgust, pulling his arm out from under Abigail’s head and sitting up to push Beastie out of their faces.
Abigail also sat up, rearranging her skirts to make sure her legs were covered, and looked at Roan as Beastie plopped herself onto his lap.
“What am I going to do with you?” he asked Beastie, who simply grunted as she rearranged herself to get even more comfortable. “You’d think you would realize you’re bigger than me now. You’re not supposed to fit in my lap anymore.”
Roan rolled his eyes and leaned down to press his cheek to the top of Beastie’s honey-colored head, then began stroking her back. “It’s a good thing you’re a good dog,” he told her. Her tail thumped against the floor, and she lifted her head to attempt to lick his cheek.
This moment was everything Abigail had ever dreamed of but was never sure existed.
She swallowed around the lump in her throat and reached over to pet Beastie’s head as the dog looked between her and Roan with all the love a dog could have.
“I know I don’t deserve this,” Roan said quietly, reaching under Beastie’s chin to scratch her, “but I am grateful that it’s happened, even if it took getting cursed to get here.”
“I’m the one who doesn’t deserve it,” Abigail said, the words catching in her throat. She’d done some terrible things in her time “helping” her father, and to find herself here, feeling like she belonged…it was something she’d never expected to find.
“How about we agree that we both deserve it and treasure this moment?” Roan asked, reaching over to take her hand, even as he avoided her gaze by looking down at Beastie. “Is that a fair compromise?”
A compromise. “I suppose so,” Abigail said, the corners of her mouth turning up.
If she didn’t feel the headache coming on, she could almost have forgotten that she’d just been sobbing hysterically on his shoulder. This moment was pretty near perfect.
She would remember this forever.
“As long as we don’t forget,” she said quietly.
Roan’s attention snapped to her. “What do you mean, as long as we don’t forget?” he asked.
“Sometimes when a spell is broken, the person it was cast on doesn’t remember everything that happened,” she said, a sinking feeling in her chest.
“But you’ll remember, right?” he asked.
“Probably,” she said, the words bitter in her mouth. What would she do if the curse broke and Roan didn’t remember that the two of them had become something different these past few days? If he went back to being the grumpy man he’d been for so long?
Could she break through his walls again without the help of a curse?
“You’ll just have to remind me,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I don’t want to forget any of this.”
As if she would feel comfortable telling a pre-curse Roan anything about magic. He probably wouldn’t listen to her.
“The fact that you don’t remember the curse happening is not a good sign,” Abigail pointed out quietly.
“I don’t care. I don’t plan on forgetting any of this, or anything that’s happened with you.” He pushed Beastie off his lap and pulled her to her feet. “And just in case, I think we’d better make a few more memories worth holding on to.”
Abigail’s cheeks flushed as she let him pull her to her feet. He reached for the half-finished dress and held it open for her to step into it. “Maybe the waking memories will stay,” he said. “And I definitely don’t want to forget dancing with you.”
Abigail could hardly believe this was real.
She certainly didn’t deserve this happiness, no matter what he said, but she allowed him to help her into the dress, which was a tad snug in the sleeves over her other dress.
She hadn’t finished the back yet, so it gaped open, and it was still far too long.
But Roan didn’t care. He pulled her into his arms and began swaying with her as if there was music playing, and instead of a tavern kitchen, they were in a grand ballroom.
“This moment is far too perfect to forget,” he whispered as he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, and Abigail wholeheartedly agreed with him.
This moment was perfect.